Felidae
by Queen of the Red Skittle
Summary: During a fight over a powerful crystal, everyone turns into cats. Jack and Pitch help each other survive the wilderness? Yeah, right.
1. I

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

 **A.N:** Cats!RotG. This is a primarily Jack/Pitch centric story, written in three parts. No slash.

 **A.N#2:** Written to the soundtracks "A Handmaid's Tale" by Adam Taylor and "Stranger Things" by Kyle Dixon.

.

"I am the Cat who walks by himself, and all places are alike to me. I will not come."  
—Rudyard Kipling, _The Cat That Walked By Himself_

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 _._

Felidae

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Jack Frost was having the strangest dream about being a cat when something tickled his nose. He groggily swiped at the source, grumbling. When the tickling didn't go away he opened his eyes and realized three things:

He was in the woods with four other furry bodies.

One said furry body had its tail halfway up his nose.

He had whiskers _._

Jack Frost, suave Guardian of Fun and Awesomeness thank you oh-so-very-much, yowled and sprang into the air. He landed on stiff legs, tail fluffed three times its size.

Tail?Jack whirled around in a circle, astonished at the thing attached to his butt. He had a tail? He stopped spinning. _Wha—?_ Jack tried to say, but out came a bewildered miaow. He forced himself to calm down. This was a dream. Maybe North went a little nuts with the magic? His ears swiveled at every sound, hyper-alert. They were in a forest, the trees all decked in yellow and brown leaves. The winter spirit gave his bewildered miaow again, then plopped his butt on the damp ground. _Guys! You gotta wake up and check this out!_

The others began stirring. They were all different breeds, though it didn't stop Jack from guessing Sandy was the fat little orange tabby, North was the stocky gray one, Tooth the tortoiseshell, and Bunnymund as the one with the blue-gray geometric markings. Jack himself, from what he could see, was entirely white. He watched with twitching ears as his friends came to the same conclusion they were now all cats.

 _Well, this shouldn't be too much of a change for Cottontail_ ,Jack thought, chattering laughter. His chatter grew as Bunnymund began caterwauling louder and longer than any of the others. At one point the Guardian of Hope glared at the still-laughing Jack and stomped over to him. Jack dodged the swat and swiped his tail in the other's face in retaliation. Bunnymund spluttered, eyes wide, before springing at him. Within seconds the two of them were tearing through the clearing, kicking up dirt and crashing through leaves at breakneck speeds. Jack delighted in his reflexes. With his tail as a rudder, he could bend and flash in any direction.

Jack swerved to avoid North. Bunnymund skidded next to him and they panted together, catching their breath. _This is so weird,_ Jack thought. He'd seen Jamie do this enough after intense physical activity to know this was feeling _tired_. Still panting, the young Guardian ambled over to North. The larger cat seemed built for cold winters, his coat as thick and gray as his beard had been.

Jack touched his nose to North's. _Hey, big guy,_ he tried to say, but all what came out was an incomprehensible, "Mroowww."

North's eyes were just as blue and friendly as before, the slitted pupil the only difference. They swept over to Bunnymund, who was still nursing a high sulk. Jack watched as the two exchanged the same nose-to-nose greeting before Bunnymund swatted him away, ears flat.

For the next stretch of time each of the Guardians greeted the other. Tooth collided her nose with Jack's in an enthusiastic bump. Sandy said hello last. Even as a cat not a meow passed the Sandman's lips. Placid, the little Guardian seemed the least surprised at his transformation. If anything, he appeared—content? Relaxed? It was hard to tell looking at a face without shapes over his head. The winter spirit pulled his lips back from small, needled teeth in a grimace. Well, this was annoying. How on earth did they expect to communicate without words? What was this magic? Or more importantly, who had the power to turn five of the strongest spirits into—

Jack blinked. No way.

Though it'd been two years since Jack accepted his role of Guardian, there was no love lost between himself and the Moon. _W_ _e're gonna have words after this is sorted out,_ Jack thought, his fine mood simmering to something grayer. He turned his head and found North and Tooth pawing at something in the leaf litter. Curious, Jack padded over, Sandy bumbling behind him. He leaned in when he was close enough, whiskers fanning.

There, in the middle of a ring of dirt, was a crystal.

 _We were looking for that,_ Jack Frost thought for no reason _._ A hot wave of relief rushed over him. The crystal, of course! How could he've forgotten? They were after the crystal . . . for something. Something big. But what? And why? He tried to remember what North had said about the mission. Blah blah, special crystal, blah blah, something important, blah blah blaaaaah— Damn. Of all the times not to pay attention to the big guy. But it was more than that: he couldn't even remember coming to the woods. He'd been at the Pole, preparing for whatever the mission was, then woke up as a cat. It was as if someone had fast-forwarded the movie of his life and he'd missed the beginning.

Jack peered closer at the crystal, hoping to jog more memories. It looked like a miniature version of the one at North's Globe Room, except this one was dull and sooty. In a sudden shock of memory, he remembered it glowing blue before. Now it looked like single puff of wind would destroy it. The longer the young Guardian stared, the more he realized the crystal was responsible for their transformations.

They couldn't use it now. This crystal was spent. Whatever magic it had was gone.

Jack lifted his head to look at the others. Bunnymund maooow'd loudly. _Now what?_

Something in Jack eased when North lifted a paw. Though Jack was the spirit of mischievous chaos and always feared losing his independence, Jack had come to appreciate aspects of stability since joining the Big Four. Having a leader while being in a strange forest as a cat was certainly one of those moments, and he wasn't the only one who relaxed as North took control.

The crystal crumbled when North tapped it. The Guardian of Wonder proceeded to divide the remnants into two piles. When he was done, he looked at each of them.

 _Okay, so there're two crystals,_ Jack thought. But that didn't explain why they were in an unfamiliar forest. And it certainly didn't explain why the crystal turned them all into cats. He hoped the rest of his memories would return sooner than later. After the fiasco with his memories and Easter two years ago, he was done with amnesia.

Suddenly North began padding deeper into the woods, tail high and fluffed. Sandy gamboled after the gray cat, his own tail curled high. Tooth leapt after them, stumbling over her paws. Bunnymund and Jack shared a glance before the other snorted.

And like that, the Guardians fell into a lopsided line. Jack followed, trusting the big guy to lead him and the others back to their original forms. After three hundred years of doing whatever he pleased whenever he wanted, he'd been afraid of rules and the yoke of responsibilities. But the two years he'd spent with the Big Four had taught him having friends to share his happiness was far better than any lonely freedom he'd yet experienced, or ever will. It was like carrying a sun in his chest. Somedays, if he paused his antics long enough to realize what he had, he felt as if the sun would burst and spill out his fingertips.

Jack lifted his head and peered into the yellow treetops. Leaves fluttered down and landed on their backs, making him want to chase them. Maybe in an earlier life he'd been a cat, because nothing felt as natural as walking through the forest with his tail held high. He glanced behind. Judging by the flattened ears and bristled fur, the kangaroo was still ten shades of grumpy. Jack mrooooow'd, dropping back to rub shoulders with the other.

Bunnymund whirled his head to bite, but Jack was already dodging. _This tail thing is amazing,_ the young Guardian thought as he sped away from the other. He veered around a rock, Bunnymund in hot pursuit. Up, down, around, over: at some indeterminable point their race became less a chase and more a dance, their bellies stretched as they ran. Jack watched as Bunnymund flew over a stump and twisted like an organic slinky to avoid a puddle. They slowed down enough to walk side-by-side, each panting. The tired muscles and heavy breathing was still weird to Jack, but he tried to shake the weakness away. Was this how mortals lived their lives? No wonder they moved so slow.

 _See?_ Jack nudged the other's face with a muddy paw. _Fun._

Bunnymund's tail twitched. _Whatever._

When night fell North had the group stop under some boulders. Sandy and Tooth entered the safety of the crevasse, tripping over their paws in sleepy stumbles. Bunnymund slunk in after them. Instead of following, Jack scaled up the largest rock as if born to it, lithe muscles bunching under his white fur. An empty panorama of night sky greeted him at the top. It was a scene he'd seen a thousand times, but somehow being in a cat's body gave him a perspective he hadn't appreciated before. It didn't stop a small shiver to run up Jack's spine. Despite his current happiness, two years did little to erase three hundred years of miserable nights.

The darkness served too cruel a reminder. It still did.

Another shiver ran up Jack's spine, causing his fur to fluff. He was being silly. That was in the past. _The stars are made of nickle_ , he thought for no reason. Had it been Jamie who said it? He couldn't remember. If only the boy could see him now. Oh, wait. Jack grimaced at the thought of Annabelle, their greyhound, and a different shudder ran up his spine. Maybe not. Best to sort this cat-business out before seeing the kiddo again.

Jack Frost didn't know how long he sat staring into the night sky, time flowing like water around him. At one point Jack caught sight of the tell-tale shimmer of the aurora borealis. He was so focused on the lights he didn't even hear North's approach. The larger cat plopped next to him, rolls of fur spilling around his body. Jack had to move to avoid becoming smothered.

"Miaow," Jack said, forgetting.

North chuttered quietly, and the young Guardian was struck with the impression nothing about the big guy had changed. Yeah, he was a cat—they all were—but the essence defining each of them was the same. Jack knew North could've ended up a mouse and he'd still be the friendliest, craziest Guardian of Wonder there was.

Jack was still immersed in musings when North tapped his shoulder. When he had Jack's attention, the larger cat pointed towards the shimmering green lights above them. Jack stared a moment before it clicked. Ahh. They were following the lights to the second must've shown on his face because North nodded and chuttered again.

A wind blew through, and Jack hunched down against its bite. He blinked down at himself, surprised at his body's reaction.

He had little time to think about it as North nudged him down the boulder, back towards the others. Jack followed without protest, his claws skidding against the gritty surface. By the time he landed on the ground his shoulders were stiff from how tense he'd been holding them against the wind. He slipped into the space between the rocks, the darkness only a dim gray to his cat eyes. He picked his way through dried leaves and twigs until he reached his friends' sides. Sandy and Tooth were already asleep.

As North moved to huddle next to the smaller cats, Jack understood fatigue was new. The ability to feel cold and be affected by it was new. Even the desire for warmth was new, because for the first time in over three hundred years Jack curled up next to the others to escape the cold. Bunnymund half-woke with a grumble, but soon fell asleep after Jack stopped fidgeting. As the youngest Guardian drifted off, their combined body heat chased away the air's chilled promise of snow.

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.s.

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Jack woke to a burning sensation in his belly. _I'm hungry,_ he thought, blinking. Another weird, unpleasant mortal quirk. He'd forgotten living took so much effort. Jamie always made it look so easy. Jack looked around. Sandy was already gone. How Tooth and Bunny could still be sleeping through North's snoring amazed the young Guardian. They'd wake soon enough. Hungry and thirsty, he untangled himself from the others and headed outside, already missing the combined warmth.

Cold sleet greeted him. Jack huddled at the cave's entrance, grimacing. As a Guardian he rarely made the stuff: as neither rain nor snow, it wasn't fun for anyone, himself included. He specialized in the fluff of first snowfall or the sticky snowball snow. But the urge to eat and drink was greater than his dislike, and Jack soon slipped into the gray.

Within moments his outer fur was plastered to his body. His dense undercoat kept the discomfort tolerable as he entered deeper into the forest. There were still enough yellow and brown leaves to offer him some protection, but already he could see many of the branches were thinning. _It must be getting close to winter here,_ he thought, craning his head to catch glimpses of the leaden sky. The patter of rain hitting foliage filled his ears. He'd hoped the observation would jog another memory, but nothing came to him. He couldn't make out the borealis at all. He wondered how North would lead them to the other crystal with all the rain. The worries were fleeting. Jack was sure North had a plan. He always did.

Jack picked up the pace when he heard the sound of a river. By the time he reached the rocky expanse leading up to it, his stomach was a tight little ball of surprising amount of pain. _If Jamie ever complains of 'hunger pangs' in front of me, I'm going to give him a burger._

Jack groaned. _Scratch that. Make it six burgers._

The river was narrow but deep, the water appearing black with white specks of foam as it flowed downhill. The water frothed with an aggressive speed, slamming against the rocks that contained it. Shallower, slower pools formed where the topography flattened out, and that was were Jack found Sandy.

The little tabby was sitting over one of the little offshoots, staring intently into it. Jack hurried over, meowing to be heard over the roar of the river. As he neared, he smelled fish. A part of him thought _ugh,_ but a greater part shouted _food!_ Though his paws were soundless over the flat rocks, Sandy still lifted his head to greet him. When they bumped noses, Jack could smell fish on the little tabby's breath. Jack's stomach grumbled in earnest. Sandy eyed him.

The white cat retreated a step and watched the other return to his fishing. As quick as his whips Sandy's paw flicked into the water and out came a wriggling fish. Jack was all thumbs in his attempt to get it in his mouth, but at last he crunched through the spine and stopped its struggles. It was gone in three bites. _I can't believe I ate a raw fish_ and _So good so good this is amazing I want twenty_ ran through his mind, one thought clearly more prevalent than the other.

Jack flattened his ears akimbo and gave his best soulful expression. "Mrrw?"

The smaller cat eyed him askance for a moment, but he batted the next fish towards Jack anyway. The young Guardian scarfed it down faster than the first. It tasted even better. As he finished licking his lips, he watched Sandy return to fishing. It never ceased to amaze the winter spirit how nimble the Sandman was. He was the one who matched Pitch's ferocity and agility in a fight despite his dumpy little body. It was his arrival that helped turned the tide in the last battle: if it weren't for his whips and knockout punch, who knew what would've happened to Jack and the others that night.

Jack observed Sandy for a time, taking care to pay attention to his timing and movements. He hardly noticed the sleet. Though his fur kept him warmer than he thought, Jack was eager to get out of the open. By the time Bunny and the others appeared, Jack was full and Sandy was licking his fishing paw dry. It was almost snowing at this point, but still too wet. It looked like North was covered in soggy powder sugar. The big cat bounded up the boulders as if it wasn't raining at all and greeted Sandy and Jack with warm cheer. Tooth and Bunny were fluffed as far as their fur could go, their greetings less enthusiastic.

As Bunnymund began miaowing at Sandy for some fish, Jack wandered away to explore the river. He didn't plan on going far, but it would keep his muscles warm and moving. He headed downstream, padding down slippery boulders. The river leveled off and Jack came across an old hemlock that had fallen long ago and now formed a primitive bridge over the frothing river. He passed over its roots, sniffing at its decomposing smell. He looked up.

And found Pitch Black staring at him.

That was the only conclusion Jack Frost could think of when he saw the black cat. It had to be. The sleek, triangular head was the same, right down to the gray around his eyes. Jack stopped outright, hackles bristling. The other cat made no sign of recognition, sitting still as a tomb. _We fought Pitch for the crystal_ , Jack suddenly thought. Fought with everything they had, just as they'd done two years ago to save the world's children. Even before the memory ended Jack knew it had been life-or-death. But the memory didn't include _why_ they'd been fighting in the first place.

Jack startled out of his thoughts when Pitch began slinking towards him. Jack backpedaled, instinctively searching for the staff he knew wasn't there. _He can't hurt me,_ he thought. He was mortal now, which meant Pitch couldn't do magic either. The thought that should've brought comfort only made him fluff his fur to appear bigger and meaner. He didn't see the roots of the fallen tree and tripped backwards, sprawling. _No!_ Just as Jack thought Pitch would pounce, the black cat leapt atop the tree and slunk across like a velvet shadow, ignoring both the incredulous Guardian and the surging water below. When he reached the other side he glided down, taking a moment to look over his shoulder at Jack, eyes narrowed. As if waiting.

Jack could only stare back. All of this was ridiculous. Pitch Black was mortal now, which meant—

A coyote trotted into view, on Jack's side of the river. Too surprised to move, the young Guardian could only watch as it nosed the area Pitch had been sitting not moments before. Its rangy musk filled his nose. Its wagging tongue made it look like it was laughing, but laughter was the last thing on Jack's mind. That thing could eat him. When the coyote lifted its head and they made eye-contact, he scrabbled to his paws and shot off.

The coyote leapt after him.

The chase felt surreal, like it was all a dream and any moment Jack would wake up in his immortal Guardian body. When the coyote snapped at his tail Jack spun in midair to rake his claws across the other's muzzle. The coyote balked. Jack took off again. One of his paws skidded on some ice. The misstep cost him less than a second, but it was enough for the wild dog to close its jaws around his haunch.

Pain Jack hadn't felt since Pitch snapped his staff in Antartica barreled through him. He folded on himself and latched his claws on the coyote's face, batting and biting with single-minded larger animal released him, snarling. It attempted a second bite, snapping to avoid the frenzied swiping. Its teeth sunk in his haunch again, its hot breath reeking of carrion. Jack's panic redoubled. For no reason at all he thought about Jamie.

Just as the larger animal was about to flip him over in earnest, a blur sailed over Jack and struck the larger animal in the face. The young Guardian caught a glimpse of gray as the jaws retreated.

"Maaaow!" Jack cried. He staggered to his paws and saw Sandy, Bunnymund, and Tooth barreling towards them. Before he could collapse in relief, the coyote's hindquarters collided with him and he was pushed into the river.

Jack was instantly sucked under. When he resurfaced he couldn't see his friends. He fought against his rising panic as his frantic paddling didn't get him closer to land, the familiar terror gripping his throat. _I'm not gonna drown, I'm not gonna drown not again not again—_

When his muscles began to burn he stopped trying to swim ashore and simply focused on keeping his head afloat, struggling against the weight of his own waterlogged fur. It hurt to breathe. He couldn't tell if the roar in his ears was his heartbeat or the river around him. Only when he tumbled in midair did he realize he'd gone over a waterfall, slamming into the water below and plunging into murk. When the turbulence dissipated he broke the surface, gasping. He floated on the current, exhausted beyond all measure. Soon an eddy brought him to a shallow pool and he found enough energy to pull himself onto a pebbly beach before collapsing.

Jack Frost stared at nothing as if from an immense distance, experiencing the greatest weariness he'd ever known. Every muscle felt it weighed as much as a Yeti, and when he twitched his injured leg, he groaned from the effort. He remained stretched on the ground for as long as he dared, unable to concentrate on anything beyond his breathing. Alive. He was alive. At some point he could smell the rain and the taste of fish still between his teeth. Instinct told him to get up, get out of sight, but moving seemed like the biggest challenge ever set against him. When he peeled himself into sitting position, his head felt like it was split in two.

 _My leg. How bad is it?_ Bracing himself, he peered down. The water had washed much of the blood, but some of his fur was still matted pink. He could see several holes were the coyote had torn his skin. He experienced a strange sense of comfort when he licked his wounds. Jack kept licking until the flesh beneath was pink and gleaming. As he did he suddenly remembered the times Jamie and his friends had skinned their knees or gotten scrapes. There had always been a disconnect when he watched their pain. Sure, he winced in sympathy, especially that time Cupcake cut her hand enough to warrant butterfly stitches. But knowing how they felt? Actually remembering the sensation of pain? It had been a mystery to him.

 _Not anymore,_ Jack thought. He was almost surprised at the hurt than anything else. He licked his wounds almost manically, the seriousness of his situation sinking in like a poison. _I could die out here. Really, really die._ Suddenly the novelty of being a cat lost all its allure. _I have to hide before anything big finds me,_ Jack thought. He looked around, but didn't recognize anything. How far was he carried downstream? He hoped the others were okay. Though North was big, Jack doubted he could take out the coyote by himself.

A flush of genuine hatred filled the young Guardian. There was no doubt the blackhearted shadow led the coyote right to them. What other traps had Pitch concocted? Or was he here, now, waiting to finish Jack off once and for all? The young Guardian quickly smelled the air and peered at every dark corner. There was no trace of Pitch. _Doesn't mean the jerk isn't here,_ he thought. He shook his head. _Can't think about that now. Have to focus on finding shelter._

An overwhelming urge to find the others kept Jack tethered in place for a long minute, the indecision hurting worse than his bruised body. But looking at the path he would need to climb to even reach the top of the waterfall had his leg twinging, and Jack knew he would have to recuperate first. He would find them later, after he rested.

Jack found shelter under a nearby pine, but it didn't matter. The rain had left everything cold and damp. He huddled into the smallest ball he could, wrapping his tail around his head to capture extra heat. Exhausted from the ordeal and aching from the pain, he fell into a thin sleep.

...

 _TBC_


	2. II

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"when I am feeling  
low  
all i have to do is  
watch my cats  
and my  
courage  
returns."  
― _Charles Bukowski_

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.

.s.

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Jack dreamt of drowning and woke to a bright but chilled morning, the cold snap still lingering on the air. _Well, survived another day,_ he thought as he stepped out from under the pine. He stretched his stiff leg, grimacing at the discomfort. He ignored his grumbling belly, too eager to find his friends than to delay a moment more. After one last lick to his wounds he began to trek up the side of the waterfall.

Jack sniffed at every rock for a trace of his friends, but by the time he reached the fallen hemlock, he'd found nothing. He blinked at the sun's brightness as he surveyed the spot the best he could, but as with everywhere else along the river, there was no sign. No blood. No patches of fur. A part of him twisted while another unwound. _They must be out there, somewhere._ Were they also looking for him? Or did they trust he could find his way himself?

Jack forced himself to sit down and squeezed his eyes shut. _Okay, Jack. This isn't your first rodeo being alone. Think._

On instinct he looked up, hoping beyond hope the ghostly Moon might shed answers. But instead of seeing the Moon, the aurora borealis gleamed like Tooth's feathers in the sky. Jack climbed to his paws, head and tail high. Of course! It would lead him to the second crystal and the others. His tail drooped when he realized to follow the borealis he would need to cross the river. That, or take half the day to backtrack the way he'd come.

He eyed the hemlock. The very thought about repeating the river's ordeal bristled his fur. A fresh wave of disgust came over him as he remembered how Pitch easily glided across.

Jack's belly chose that moment to feel like it was filled with bees. He winced. But despite his hunger he didn't dare take another step towards the river to hunt, the very thought of repeating yesterday's ordeal making him shudder. He stared at the water, hating his fear, hating how this fragile body limited him. _If only I was a Guardian again,_ he thought.

 _What are you thinking? Of course you're a Guardian,_ an inner voice said. It sounded suspiciously like North. _Snap out of it! Just because you have fur doesn't change who you are._

But something _had_ changed. He knew it every time he looked into the dark water. The little voice began whispering again, filling his thoughts of that fateful winter morning all those years ago. He shook his head, meowing. Those thoughts would do little to put food in his belly. Jack took one last look at the river before taking the long, slow journey back the way he came.

.

.s.

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Jack didn't know how long he walked. He twitched at every sound, ears swiveling. Twice he thought he saw a coyote, only to realize it was a pile of rocks. He dared not call for his friends despite the awful temptation, worried his meows might attract something larger and meaner. Perhaps worse than the loneliness and his limp was the hunger. It was hard to concentrate on anything else. He quenched his thirst on the various puddles he found, ignoring the grit and sand he drank along with it.

It was hunger more than courage that forced him to a small stream's edge. It was shallow enough he could count the rocks on the bottom. Translucent ice covered the thinnest part of the stream's edge. He dipped a paw in the water and whipped it out a second later with a hiss. _Cold!_ he thought. The irony wasn't lost on him, but he was in no mood to laugh.

An hour went by before Jack caught the scent of something slightly rotten. With a little searching he found an old mouse in a clump of pale grass, dead of age or frost kill. He pounced on it, tearing into the rigid little carcass with his sharp teeth. It tasted like a salty strip of leather. Jack swallowed it down anyway and licked his lips when it was gone, whiskers fanning. For the first time in hours the belly cramps eased. Focus sharpened. With one last sniff he continued on, slinking through bushes and trees in his quest to find his friends, wherever they were.

The sunset was peeking through the latticework of branches when Jack smelled blood. His hackles rose and he slowed. Bushes crashed in the distance. A squalling caterwaul pierced the air and Jack's stomach fell: the cry had belonged to a cat. Jack forced himself into a run despite his leg and skidded into a small clearing and found—

Pitch locked in a fight with a bobcat.

Tufts of black and brown fur littered the forest floor. The wild animal was twice Pitch's size, swatting the smaller animal with huge paws. Pitch scratched and bit, twisting like a black eel as he fought back. Jack forgot to breathe as he watched. Pitch moved with a grace that filled Jack with envy, striking with the same style as his old form. In the glow of the sunset he seemed part of every shadow, only his eyes catching the light.

But the bobcat was a creature of the wild, used to fighting. It lashed out, faster than Jack could follow, and pinned the other to the ground. Pitch screamed a horrible sound as the bobcat closed in.

Without thinking—because thinking meant rationalizing, and Jack didn't even want to touch that with a ten-foot pole—he shot at the bobcat like a white bullet. Jack's muscles shuddered under the impact when they collided. The larger cat rolled twice before leaping to its paws, hissing at the surprise attack. Jack hissed back and rushed again, fur sticking out.

The bobcat lashed but it kept backpedaling, its hindquarters low to the ground. In a change of heart it wheeled away and crashed into the bushes, little tail flicking.

Jack stared at the spot where the bobcat disappeared, unable to believe. A fire roared in his belly. He turned and found Pitch licking a bleeding paw. Jack puffed up again, the heartbeat in his ears drowning out all other thoughts. He rushed at Pitch, claws out. Pitch made no sound as he reared up, teeth bared. His claws scored a line across Jack's shoulders. Jack ignored the sting and bit down as hard as he could on whatever he could reach, remembering how the coyote's jaws had clamped down on him. Fur filled his mouth and baffled his teeth. His leg exploded in pain and he let go, yowling. He kicked out and caught skin. He scratched and kept kicking until the teeth retreated.

Jack tumbled to his paws and quickly backed up. Pitch didn't advance but stayed crouching, ears flat against his skull, growling little punched-out sounds. Both glared at each other, tails lashing.

The last of the sunset highlighted the disheveled tufts of Pitch's once sleek fur. He held his left forearm close to his body, never letting the paw touch the ground. He was bleeding from a bitten throat and a torn hind leg, though by Jack or the bobcat's doing, the Guardian couldn't tell. Some part of him cheered to see Pitch in such a state. Another part wondered why he hadn't let the bobcat finish the Boogeyman off. Jack growled. It didn't matter. What was done was done. Jack got up to move just as Pitch began to head in the same direction.

Towards the borealis.

Both stopped, glare deepening. Jack puffed out and hissed.

 _We're both searching for the second crystal?_ Wonderful. It wouldn't be Pitch Black if he didn't somehow make everything difficult. Pitch broke the standoff and began to limp away, favoring his hurt front leg. Jack let him go, knowing both were too hurt to continue the fight.

The vast reality of Jack's aloneness pressed down on all sides as Pitch disappeared into the forest. He hated the twinge of fear.

No. He could do this alone. Hadn't he been alone for three hundred years?

Jack looked up, aching from more than his bites. The aurora borealis glowed like a beacon, urging him onwards. His gaze shifted to the treetops. He briefly entertained the idea of sleeping in the safety of one until the moment his own wounds began to throb, his previous injuries bleeding along with the new ones. Never mind.

Jack curled up in the crotch of an old tree, sore and tired beyond measure. He missed the others' warmth, huddling in on himself as he tried to ignore the wind cutting through his fur.

At some indeterminate point he jolted awake as if electrocuted, the memory of the coyote's jaw on his leg and his chest heavy from near drowning. When the panic subsided Jack fanned his whiskers and huddled back down, his stomach twinging with hunger. The world was the deep blue of the pre-dawn, still hushed and quiet. Jack fluffed his fur hoping to catch every ounce of body heat.

Eventually the hunger was too great. The aurora borealis was faint, almost too faint to make out, but Jack knew he had to follow it. Dark thoughts refused to let him enjoy the sunrise as he padded through the forest. How long would the adventure be? Already it'd been three days. He was limping, hungry, and it was getting harder to feel warm. He needed to eat.

 _Oh, Jamie._

A fear he'd never experience exploded in Jack's chest. What if he never saw Jamie again? What if he was trapped in this moral cat body for the rest of his life?

The sky was the colour of pigeon down when he spied Pitch hunting by a large river, sitting as Sandy had sat alongside a small pool. Jack wanted to move on, wanted to keep going, but his stomach crunched and, morbidly curious, stayed. He crouched low, hoping the grass would hide him. If Pitch noticed his presence, he didn't react. Despite his numerous wounds he struck with unerring precision, expression almost bored. Jack's empty stomach tightened as he watched Pitch eat fish after fish. He groaned. One of Pitch's ears flicked.

Pitch caught a final fish and let it wriggle in his mouth. He turned his head and stared directly at where Jack was hiding. Once their eyes locked the Boogeyman tossed the fish back into the water. Jack jolted forward before he could stop and hated his weakness. With an expression that could only be described as a smirk, Pitch began limping away. _I should've let the bobcat kill you,_ Jack thought, wishing for his staff. He waited until Pitch was out of sight before hurrying over. The Guardian licked and nibbled the skeletal remains, scarfing the uneaten entrails and unwanted bits Pitch left behind.

It was hardly a meal. Jack finished more unsatisfied than before, stomach aching. But glancing at the dark water so close to him had Jack retreating. Maybe he would get lucky with another mouse.

A chilled wind picked up, slicing at his cuts and bites. Jack soldiered on, trying to work the stiffness from his muscles. Bare trees bent and creaked, their brown leaves clinging like suicides unable to let go. He was surprised when he caught up to Pitch. The other cat's limp was more pronounced, his left paw barely touching the ground. Something twinged in the young Guardian. _Two is better than one,_ the little voice whispered. Jack immediately rejected the idea and gave the other a wide berth as he passed him. He didn't look at Pitch as he did, focusing on the faint aurora borealis ahead.

The sun rose in the sky, peaked, and began to descend. Jack's hunger became less of a pain and more of a hollowness. He blinked wearily, trying to find energy to enjoy the sunshine peeking through the clouds. _Keep going, just keep going_.

The winter spirit was so focused on walking he almost missed the barest scratching sound. His ear twitched. The scratching grew louder. Jack stopped, both ears cupping towards the source. The wind turned and suddenly he caught a whiff of a warm musk. He took a hesitant step towards it, belly clenching. Jack abandoned the aurora borealis to venture deeper into the woods, heading towards it. The musk grew stronger. His pace quickened.

At last Jack stopped. A rabbit lay caught in a hunter's snare at the base of an old tree, slowly strangling to death. He could almost hear Jamie say, _Oh, what a poor bunny!_ For a moment Jack stood in an agony of indecision. As he looked at the rabbit, he was reminded of the feeling he had when he'd watched the struggle between the bobcat and Pitch. It loomed as something larger than him, something ruthless and undeniable. He felt small before it.

Then there was no thought. As easily as if he'd been a cat his whole life, Jack fastened his jaws around the rabbit's throat and squeezed. The rabbit pummeled him in a sudden flurry of strength, boxing his ears and kicking his stomach. Jack held on, eyes squeezed shut. The struggles soon flagged, the rabbit fighting against the snare as much as it was Jack. Then it went still, liquid eyes unblinking. It was dead.

There was no time to mourn, no time to think. Jack ate until his stomach was so full it hurt. Even when he thought he couldn't eat he kept gorging himself, hot meat filling his mouth. It was only when he finished did Jack realize blood covered his chest and most of his face. After a horrified heartbeat he began licking himself clean. Something chittered behind him. Jack whirled to find Pitch watching him, tail slowly undulating. The Nightmare King chittered again, laughing. Jack's ears flattened and he hurried away, shame hounding his steps.

That night the slow creak of the surrounding pines filled the air. Night was a time of introspection and silence, and Jack Frost hated both. The young Guardian stared up at the cloudy, starless sky, the events of the afternoon still playing in his mind like a bad dream. He'd spent hours before licking himself clean, the repetitive motions helping calm him, but it didn't wash away all the thoughts. Fish were one thing, but a rabbit? He'd seen Jamie and Sophie hold the stupid things at petting zoos. Jack blanched. _Bunnymund_. How could he ever tell Bunnymund what he did? Would he slowly forget what he was and slowly become wild? How much of him was Jack Frost the Guardian and how much was Jack the Cat?

 _"You're Jack Frost,"_ Pitch's voice sneered in his ear. Jack shuddered, remembering the horrible Easter in Pitch's globe room, how snidely the Boogeyman had mock-bowed at him. _"You make a mess wherever you go. Why, you're doing it right now."_

"Mraaaaw!" _Get out of my head!_ he tried to shout. But Pitch nowhere to be found. The area was empty.

.

.s.

.

Jack Frost regretted waking when he heard the patter of rain. Rain. Stuff was worse than snow. Peering out of the his hollow did little to raise his spirits: the world was gray, sleet pouring from leaden skies. There, more of a whisper than a suggestion, hung the aurora borealis.

Jack's fur clung to his body within seconds of leaving the hidey-hole. As he walked in the downpour, again marveling how his fur kept him warm, he realized the rabbit from yesterday had saved his life. Without it, he was sure he wouldn't have had the energy to conserve body heat, let alone travel.

The winter spirit's shoulders slowly relaxed. Maybe he was a cat. Maybe he was a Guardian. Maybe killing the rabbit was cruel, maybe it was not. Life fed life. Everything eventually died. Jamie knew it. His human friends knew it. Jack himself used to know it when he was a mortal. _Well, it_ has _been a long time since I've had a front-row seat to all,_ Jack thought.

He shook his head. He was getting too distracted. There was still the mystery of the crystal and why Pitch wanted it, or why they had even fought for it in the first place. _I can't let Pitch get to the crystal first,_ he thought. Jack blinked water from his eyes as he looked around for the other Guardians, wondering what was keeping them. All he could smell was the cold moisture of the air and the stink of his own wet fur. He kept following the borealis until he saw Pitch huddled beneath a fir tree. They sized each other up. Pitch's stare was particularly baleful, as if unpleasantly surprised to see Jack.

The black cat started walking away, tail stiff. After a moment's hesitation, Jack followed.

The winter spirit noticed the Boogeyman was slower than yesterday, his limp more pronounced. Though Jack could've easily outdistanced the other, he continued his measured stalking. Pitch cast side-eyed glares Jack's way every so often, ears flattening.

At some point the sleet turned into a slushy snowfall. Soon both of them were covered in wet, heavy snow. Jack vowed never to make the stuff when he returned to his body, because to hell with with this. _What I wouldn't give for some sunshine right about now,_ he groaned.

Pitch never stopped to eat, never stopped to rest, didn't even react when a clump of snow fell inches from his face, following the beacon as if some unseen force drove him. By evening the snow stopped, the wind dead. It was then Jack took note a stillness in the forest he hadn't noticed in a long time, not since his early days of immortality. It'd been several hundred years since he'd really noticed that about the cold. Now he considered winter a time of activity, of snowball fights and ice skating and snow angels and children's laughter. And snow days—what better fun could be had? Hot coca and movies and snow forts and the undeniable sense of freedom. Jack didn't know how he felt as he trudged in the quiet of the cold forest. It felt like the true essence of winter, not the fun times he had with Jamie and his friends. Jack flicked a glance at Pitch's form. _Cold and dark,_ he thought for no reason.

Pitch kept traveling throughout the night. The aurora borealis' pale greens and pinks gleamed above like the scales of a galactic fish. Pitch had all but disappeared in the darkness, the only thing marking him out throughout the night was his paw prints in the snow.

By the time the sunrise spilled over the treetops Jack was almost stumbling over his paws in exhaustion. He collapsed in relief when Pitch finally stopped in a small thicket. The ground was chilled and hard and wet, but Jack was too exhausted to care. Like similar battery ends Jack and Pitch remained as far apart from each other as possible. Jack hated how the Boogeyman curled up on the opposite side of the thicket as delicately as a deer, as if he hadn't traveled for a whole day and night. The young Guardian waited until Pitch appeared to sleep before closing his eyes.

When Jack woke some hours later, the thicket was deserted. His stomach growled, filling him with dread. He staggered on stiff legs and blearily smelled the place Pitch had last been, noting the melted snow. He picked up Pitch's scent and loped after it, suddenly afraid the other had found the crystal while he'd been sleeping.

Bright blue sky peeked from behind the clouds, cool sunshine dappling the soggy ground. Trees thinned to give way to a large meadow. Pale yellow grasses swished beneath a splotchy blanket of snow. Distant mountains framed the horizon, their peaks disappearing into the clouds.

Jack Frost was so focused on the windswept panorama he didn't notice the shadow until it was too late. A faceful of claws slashed his face and Jack yowled and shook his head free, shocked to find Pitch. He yowled again when a streak of pain sizzled across his shoulder. Jack lashed blindly but Pitch was quicker, rolling him onto his back. The black cat was larger than him, heavier. His weight kept Jack pressed down as he bit his throat. Jack struck back with everything he had, kicking and clouting and wriggling as if gone mad. Pitch was unmovable, bearing down as mercilessly as a glacier. Jack soon felt his struggles began to weaken, hunger mixing with exhaustion. Agonized fear filled Jack like a cancer. He wondered if this was how the rabbit had felt, pinned and trapped. In a last effort he _miaaaaow_ 'd as loud as he could, hoping beyond hope someone would save him.

Jack couldn't believe it when the jaws and weight withdrew. He found himself too spent to move as Pitch stood over him like a terrible shadow, regarding him with no discernible emotion.

Jack tried to flattened when Pitch leaned close and hissed, needled teeth inches from his face. With one last withering glare the Boogeyman limped away. Jack could only close his eyes, still catching his breath.

...

 _TBC_


	3. III

**A.N:** Thank you everyone for reading! See you on the next adventure!

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"A cat is only itself." _  
_―Charles Bukowski, _On Cats_

 _._

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.s.

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Jack Frost's throat twinged as he spied on Pitch from behind a bush. He wished the other Guardians were with him. North would know what to do. Or Sandy. With chagrin Jack realized he'd never successfully dealt with Pitch Black alone—Sandy and the others had always shown up to help at the last second. The only times he'd been truly alone with the Nightmare King were during Easter and Antarctica. Both were disasters. Yesterday was a disaster too, yet . . . _Yet I'm still alive,_ he thought. The last thing he wanted was to confront Pitch, but the little voice kept whispering, _What else can I do? What kind of Guardian would I be if I didn't face him?_

Pitch looked up from licking a paw and stiffened as Jack came into view. The young Guardian forced himself not to run. Pitch stared at him like— _A cat,_ Jack thought. Whereas his friends were Guardians dressed up in cat suits, Pitch felt like real deal. _He's mean enough to be a cat, that's for sure,_ Jack thought.

As if hearing Jack's thoughts Pitch suddenly hissed. He took several steps towards Jack, fur bristling. The winter spirit didn't retreat despite every instinct telling him to, claws burrowing into the ground. Jack told himself he was ready if Pitch struck, but another part wilted. Pitch drew closer, pupils thin slits. Jack braced. His heart knocked against his ribs as Pitch suddenly shoved past. Jack blinked. He watched the other cat stalk away.

Jack kept his distance from the Boogeyman for the rest of the day, unwilling to test how far his luck would hold. He kept to the bushes and trees as they left the meadow and reentered the forest. Pitch ignored him. Unlike the glares yesterday, Pitch didn't glance Jack's way once, ignoring him as if he were part of the scenery.

That night, the winter spirit noticed Pitch had left his sleeping spot. After a moment of internal debate, Jack decided to follow. The other's trail led into a small clearing and Jack froze when he noticed Pitch Black staring at the Moon. Jack half-ducked from view, unable to shake off the feeling he was intruding on a private moment. Despite the warning bells in his head Jack found he couldn't move, morbidly curious. Pitch was almost white in the moonlight, sitting as if he'd been carved from stone, tail undulating slowly. It struck Jack that everyone was somehow tied to the Nightmare King. Jack was. The Guardians were. Even the children of the world were. It would make sense the Moon was too, though as Jack spied on the strange scene, he couldn't help but sense a deeper story, one he doubted he'd ever learn.

The memory came to Jack as seamlessly as a waking dream: it was a scene similar to this one, the same pale light filling a similar clearing. There had been no children that night, no bantering, no insults. There wasn't even speaking. The violence of it all had taken away Jack's breath as Pitch staved them off in an effort that made his last battle with the Big Five seem like child's play. _He was going to win,_ Jack suddenly thought, blinking. _He absolutely was._ How could've he forgotten that? Pitch's fingers had been within reach. Just the crystal was snatched there was a brilliant flash, and then—and then—

 _We woke up as cats. All of us._

Jack shook his head, the memory fading. So the Man in Moon _had_ intervened. _Must've been pretty serious if the Moon had something to do with this,_ he still didn't explain _why_ the crystal had been so special in the first place. The young Guardian looked up and found Pitch studying him through narrowed eyes. Jack stiffened. Instead of hissing or chasing him away Pitch kept staring, face inscrutable as a cat's. Jack wasn't sure if he liked that better. The last thing he wanted to repeat was another _cold and dark_ attempt, unable to help remember Antartica.

But then Pitch looked away, back towards the Moon, the moment gone.

.

.s.

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Jack woke up shivering under a thin layer of snow. The sky was the colour of pigeon down, soft and gray. He sniffed the air, the crispness stinging his nose. If he didn't find the second crystal . . . well. He didn't plan on staying a cat long enough to experience what true winter meant. He glanced over his shoulder. Pitch was already awake, licking his paw. When he finished he began limping deeper into the woods, appearing not to care if Jack followed or not. He didn't seem to care much about anything, ears fixed ahead with a single-minded purpose while Jack's swiveled at every sound. As they walked Jack glanced behind himself every so often, trying to ignore the steady worry. Once again there was no sign of the other Guardians. What could be taking them so long?

 _What would they do if they saw you with Pitch Black?_ the little voice said. Jack pushed it down and pretended the thought hadn't crossed his mind. _I'm following him so he doesn't get to the crystal first,_ he retorted, but even in his mind he wasn't sure if they'd accept that. Especially Bunnymund. Jack flattened his ears. Two years of friendship had done much to erase past antagonisms, but Jack didn't dare want to risk what he'd gained. After three hundred miserable years, the Big Four had become the family he'd never had. He couldn't imagine losing them.

They soon passed by a large blackwater river. Its side were swollen with the extra rain and snow from the past few days. Jack eyed it warily, ears flattening. Pitch never paused, veering towards it. Jack hesitated. Stomach aching, he moved as close as he dared to the edge. He watched from the corner of his eye as Pitch proceeded to fish. He tried to mimic the older cat's movements, striking when Pitch struck, but the most he did was get himself wet. Fish darted in silver flashes beneath the water, as if laughing. Jack hated to admit it, but Pitch was a better cat than himself. Nearly every one of the Boogeyman's strikes brought up a wriggling fish. _Probably more used to killing things than me_ , Jack thought, eying Pitch's filling belly. His own pressed against his spine, snarling.

At a certain point Pitch stopped hunting and began cleaning his whiskers. Jack pretended to be busy and tried not to show his eagerness when the black cat left. When Jack slunk over to scavenge the bones his ears perked. Some of the carcasses still had meat left. One fish was barely eaten. Jack scarfed everything down, stomach relaxing. He was nearly finished when he glanced up to see—

Pitch crossing the river.

What? What was he doing?

"Miarrow!" Jack called. _We can cross at another point! Or later! Or not at all!_

Pitch looked over his shoulder and gave Jack a pointed look. His lips lifted in a sneer before continuing forward, carefully picking a way through the exposed rocks. Jack paced the river's edge, tail lashing. The borealis gently undulated above, leading beyond the river. There was no telling how long it would take to find dry passage over, and Pitch was already a quarter a way over.

 _Dammit!_ Jack thought, then leapt. His claws scrabbled against the first rock. Water splashed in his face, shockingly cold. He made the mistake of peering into the dark, frothing depths, feeling his lungs lock up. The churning of the water drowned all other sounds.

 _Turn back,_ a little voice said. _Catch up to Pitch later._ He looked over his shoulder.

The silent forest loomed.

There was no other decision. Jack leapt to the next rock, claws out. Then the next. Water spat in his face and belly as he slowly shadowed after Pitch. He forced himself to only focus on the next rock, shoving his fear in a corner so it could be taken out and deconstructed later. He tried to imagine what he'd say if Jamie was with him. _It's only a game, see_? _Only a game, just cross the river, the water's lava, only a game—_

Jack was more than three quarters of the way when he slipped on a coating of ice. He twisted and his lower body was submersed before he knew it, the current buffeting him as he clung against the rock in a death-grip. The swirling current felt like a thousand icy needles piercing his skin. He slowly began pulling himself up, muscles quivering. When he shifted for a better foothold his claws slipped. He was instantly swept away. He slammed into a rock and was shoved under, the freezing water stealing his breath from his chest. Jack broke the surface, spluttering.

When a mouth suddenly clamped on the back of his neck Jack lashed out in a panic. The jaws shook him until he went passive. It took several more seconds before Jack noticed black fur.

 _Pitch?_ Jack choked on water as he tried to miaow. Pitch swam against him, pulling hard. The Boogeyman hissed when they collided with another rock but kept his punishing grip on Jack's neck. It was only when Jack began swimming without panicking did the jaws let go. Pitch jostled next to him, forcing Jack to swim in a diagonal path until they reached the other side. Jack exploded out of the water the moment his paws touched land, scrambling up the rocks as fast as he could. _Land! Yes, yes, sweet land!_ He went almost dizzy trying to shake the water out, wet fur sticking out in crazy spikes. Within seconds he was shivering.

A shadow passed by. It was Pitch, fur sleek as an eel, ears held back. Jack could only stare. He should've been swept halfway down the river by now.

"Mrow?" Jack asked, only remembering words didn't work.

Pitch fed him an unreadable look. There was no warmth there, no comfort, and Jack's huge smile of relief wilted. Pitch shifted his weight from his injured paw and grimaced. Just as Jack expected another hiss in his face the Boogeyman began limping away, following the aurora borealis in the same single-minded determination. Jack watched him go, blinking. It was only when Pitch disappeared around a bend did Jack follow, glad to be alive but still slightly mystified he was.

 _Didn't have to bite so hard,_ he thought, turning his neck to work the soreness out.

Tiny snowflakes fluttered past Jack's whiskers as he padded through the forest. Was all of this because he saved Pitch from the bobcat? Or had the act of saving Pitch changed something, something he couldn't see yet? Jack shook his head and growled. Nothing made sense in this cat-body. He still didn't know why he saved Pitch from the bobcat in the first place—after the coyote incident, Jack should've let the wild animal tear Pitch apart. In his gut he knew the Boogeyman would try to hurt Jamie again, or try to overthrow the Guardians again.

Bah. Everything was clearer when he wasn't a foot off the ground.

The two cats kept walking until the sounds of the river faded into nothing. The forest was still, the remaining leaves quiet on their trees. Jack didn't notice, too cold and stiff to care about the surrounding beauty. He dimly realized even though the Man in Moon granted him the power of winter, he'd never experienced the cold. Not like this. Not this teeth-chattering, muscle-numbing chill. Even his thoughts felt sluggish as he stumbled after Pitch. He wearily glanced at the other cat. Pitch was slower and was favoring his bruised shoulder, but didn't appear to be shivering as badly.

By evening the snow was falling at a steady pace, covering the ground in a thin blanket. Hunger gripped his stomach with a needled fist, but it was a small pain compared to his frozen limbs. Jack closed his eyes and continued to shiver, wishing his still-damp fur would warm him up. His heart ached. Was Jamie looking at the sky right now, wondering where he was?

 _I'm coming, Jamie. Just need to get this mess sorted out, then I'll be back. I promise._

The moon was peeking through the trees when Pitch finally stopped for the night. He entered a hollowed-out log and curled in its most protected section, his eyes gleaming eerily in the shadow. Jack gingerly squeezed into the edge, keeping as far away from Pitch as he could while still under the log's protection from the snow. He could hear it falling on the trees and branches, soft and relentless. Despite the beauty of the moment fear gripped his heart. They needed to find the other crystal, and soon. Shivers wracked his body. He couldn't feel his paws.

 _Jack, I'm scared._ It was his sister, the memory of her voice bright.

 _I know, I know. But you're gonna be alright_ , he had said. _We're going to have a little fun instead._

Fun. Jack's mouth twitched in a half-smile. Fun saved his sister. It turned the tide against Pitch two years ago. It'd never failed to bring a smile to Jamie's face and filled his days with joy. It was Jack's centre, his reason for being a Guardian.

That, and sacrifice.

 _Sacrifice._ The heaviest gift to give, the steepest price. Would he have still become Jack Frost if he hadn't given his life to save his sister's?

More importantly, did he deserve becoming a Guardian again? Jack went still, the thought an iron shroud. What if this 'being a cat' was all a test? Some twisted, horrible trial sent by the Moon?

No. Jack shook his head. He was past all that: he _was_ a Guardian. This cat thing just turned everything on its side. Jack blearily looked at Pitch. The black cat hadn't moved from where he had curled up.

 _"For the last time, leave me alone!"_

 _"You said you wanted to be alone? So be alone!"_

Jack winced and looked away, the echoes of their last true encounter ringing in his ears. He shoved the memory away before the rest could unfold. It was always Antartica between them, the open wound neither acknowledged. A hard shiver took him from his thoughts, reminding him of more pressing concerns. He huddled as tight as he could, teeth chattering as he tried to will himself to sleep.

.

.s.

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Warmth. Jack sighed quietly, relishing the strange and wonderful sensation. It radiated all along his back and side like a heating pad. The deep chill from falling in the river was gone. He sleepily opened his eyes. Sunlight beamed down. Something moved against him and it took Jack a solid minute for his brain to realize he and Pitch were pressed together. The black cat was still curled tight, head buried under a fluffed tail, sides slowly moving. Jack didn't breathe as he peeled away, only slumping in relief when he was safely several feet away. The Boogeyman didn't so much as twitch. Jack thanked all the lucky stars neither Pitch nor the other Guardians had noticed.

Jack looked up. There was the aurora borealis, right on time. _Maybe today we'll find the crystal._ The thought carried no weight, but without the deathly chill in his bones the forest didn't seem so bad, the snow, not as threatening. Still in the strange optimistic mood, Jack gathered his courage and dared to prod Pitch. The other was a stone for all he reacted. When Jack jostled him harder Pitch curled tighter and growled.

 _Fine. Be that way._ Jack wandered off, not to follow the borealis, but for the first time since waking up as a cat with the Guardians, simply to explore. The sun was bright and cool, sparkling on the new snow. Jack idly licked at some to quench his thirst, feeling more cat-like than ever. When he was done he sucked in the deepest breath he could and let it go, watching his breath steam in the air. The last time he'd seen his own breath was— _Well, when I had brown hair and breathed,_ he thought with a smile that didn't quite touch his eyes.

As he stared into the barren forest he felt as if someone had scooped out all his insides and left him empty. He began to slowly walk back to the log. The last leaves clung to their skinny branches above him, their papery whispers filling the air. _You'll fall one day,_ he suddenly thought to them. _Pitch did. We almost did two years ago. And apparently we almost did again over a crystal._ There was no anger, no pity, no triumph, only the strange same hollowness.

A loud rustle drew Jack from his thoughts. _Pitch?_ Jack only waited a moment before a weasel stumbled out of the bushes. A dead rabbit hung in its jaws. Jack stared at the predator. It stared back. The wind turned and Jack caught the coppery tang of blood and oily weasel musk. The weasel eyed Jack once more before continuing its way, the rabbit dragging in the snow.

Jack suddenly stepped forward, puffing up to look bigger. The weasel let the rabbit go and grinned its bloody mouth at him, fur bristling as it took a dancing step closer. Jack rushed at it, hoping his bigger size would scare it off, but the weasel met him with swift viciousness, its teeth and claws scoring his neck and flanks even before Jack knew what was happening. Its attack hurt but Jack was ravenous. The Guardian tried to use his weight against the smaller predator as Pitch had against him, bearing down as he bit and clawed. But fighting the weasel was like fighting a greased eel, and soon Jack found himself outmatched. Its bites were getting closer and closer to his vulnerable throat, and Jack realized he was fighting for his life.

In desperation Jack lashed out and bit down as hard as he could on whatever he could reach. Small bones crunched in his mouth as one of its fore legs broke. Hot, salty blood spurted. The weasel redoubled its frenzied attack and Jack scrambled to get away. After several stumbles the snarling weasel gave up, broken leg dangling uselessly. Jack darted behind a tree. When he heard squealing he rushed out to see Pitch Black hovering over the weasel, the back of its neck in his jaws. Pitch dropped it seconds later. It flopped in the snow and didn't move.

 _Pitch! You didn't have to kill it!_ Jack tried to shout, hating the 'mrrowwww' that poured out instead.

Pitch coolly looked at the weasel's broken leg, then back at him. Jack pinned his ears and flushed.

 _It could've healed._

Pitch gave him a droll look.

Jack took a step forward, fur puffed. _It could've._

The Boogeyman shrugged and made a show of licking a paw. Jack glared at him and tried to ignore the welling guilt. Though Pitch delivered the killing blow, he _had_ started the fight. What would the others say when they found out? Jack looked down at himself. His white fur was covered in bleeding scratches. Tufts of it littered the ground. The deeper cuts began to throb. He bared his teeth, coals in his belly, but pushed the urge to make Pitch realize how ruthlessness was unnecessary. Wasn't it? The weasel could've survived a broken leg . . . couldn't it? Jack shook his head, hating the creeping doubt. It was too much to think Pitch may've done a kindness.

Hunger forced him towards the rabbit, and though Jack wished he could take back everything, he was relieved the moment he took his first bite. He ripped through the soft belly, lukewarm meat filling his mouth. He was beginning to eat in earnest when he noticed Pitch still sitting in place, tail slowly undulating.

Jack stopped chewing. Pitch stared, eyes half-lidded. _Stay hungry,_ Jack thought, thinking of the weasel, and went back to eating. But after several more bites couldn't help but remember the half-eaten fish left by the river. His eating slowed. Pretending he was shifting into a more comfortable spot, Jack moved over. He forced himself not to react when he felt Pitch crouch next to him. Warmth radiated against his side.

The rabbit was gone in minutes, only tufts of fur and licked-clean bones left. Pitch went on to nibble the weasel, but soon left it untouched, lips bared in a grimace. Jack sat in a patch of cool sun, blinking against the sudden sleepiness of a full stomach. He half-heartedly tried to clean the blood off his fur, but unlike last time, felt no pressing need to do so. He glanced up to catch Pitch watching him with a strange expression on his face. It was wiped away a second later, but in that bare moment it almost seemed the Boogeyman had been pleased.

Jack pretended he hadn't seen it, too disturbed to wonder what it could mean, and focused on how he would apologize to Bunnymund later. He hated to think he'd develop a taste for rabbit after this.

Crows began to gather in the trees, the braver ones landing near the weasel carcass. Jack grimaced, for some reason reminded of Pitch's Nightmares. One began to eat the bloodied snow. When another started pecking at the body Jack had enough. He struck out towards the ever-present aurora borealis, hating the way the _caw_ s seemed to hound his steps. A quick glance behind him showed Pitch trailing behind, still licking his lips. The scene didn't make him so much as blink. _Probably wouldn't make me either if I saw worst things,_ Jack thought. He suddenly realized he'd been staring when he noticed Pitch watching him with an expression that was more teeth than smile. Jack quickly shot his eyes forward and didn't back look again.

They kept walking through the day, stopping once near a small stream to quench their thirst. The young Guardian blinked at how easily he went to the water's edge. It was cold but refreshing. _Why was I ever afraid,_ he thought as he peered into the depths. The bottom was bright and shallow. This was the type of stream Jamie and his friends would play in during the hot summer months. He smiled softly, thinking the boy would be probably drinking hot chocolate about now, or waiting for the season's first major snowstorm. He grimaced. Hopefully not soon.

Jack suddenly jerked his head up, nose filled with a thick, heavy musk. His fur exploded on end as a bear shuffled into view. He'd never felt so small as he did staring up at the bear. Its long claws scored the ground as it stood near the stream. Pitch crouched low, pupils swollen, his own fur on end. The bear swung its head their way, snuffling wetly at the air. Jack's gaze shot down at the unwashed rabbit's blood still across his mouth and chest and felt his own freeze.

 _Oh, crap._

The bear took a step forward, its sniffing more excited. Pitch shot off like a black bullet, racing for a nearby tree and scrambling up it. Startled, Jack rushed after him only to stop when falling scraps of bark stung his eyes. The young Guardian tried to keep climbing but was suddenly stricken with the mental image of the bear peeling him off the trunk and snapping him in two. Jack cursed and hid behind a bush as the bear neared. Its shaggy coat was thick and full, its beady eyes blinking slowly as it ambled over to the tree. Its breath reeked of sour fish. When it reached the base it stopped and peered up. Pitch bared needled teeth and hissed. The bear pushed itself up on its hind legs, snuffling. Pitch hissed again and retreated deeper on his branch. The bear stood taller.

"Mraww owwrr rrooowww!" Jack said, prancing and waving his tail. _Over here!_

The bear perked, its tiny black eyes glittering. It sniffed again and after a moment, shoved off the tree and ambled towards him.

Jack knew he couldn't outrun it but had to try anyway, belly stretching over the ground as he took flight. He could feel the vibrations as it lumbered after him. Jack didn't look back, sprinting as fast as he could, flashing through bushes and trees. He pushed himself to greater and greater speeds until the forest became a blur, until he didn't know where Jack the Guardian began and Jack the Cat ended. Pain faded. A great peace filled his mind. _I was born to fly,_ he thought for no reason.

Jack Frost ran until he forgot his own name, until he forgot Pitch Black and the Guardians and the Man in the Moon and even Jamie Bennett. He ran until the very thought of running another step meant his heart would burst. Jack slowed to a crawl until he plopped down, every inch of him exhausted. The bear was gone. Pitch was gone. All what remained was him. Jack closed his eyes and breathed. When he finally reopened them in what felt like hours later, he looked down.

The second crystal was nestled in the snow, glowing a brilliant blue.

It took a long moment before Jack understood what he was seeing. When his heartbeat calmed enough so he could hear his thoughts, he leaned in. As he peered into the crystal's depths, he understood then why Pitch had fought so hard for it. _It grants wishes_ , Jack realized, the last memory clicking in place. Any wish. _A wish to destroy the Guardians for good,_ he thought, smiling as a only a cat could, neither happy nor sad. _No wonder he wanted it so badly._

Jack took a shuddering breath, feeling something bubble inside him. When it grew too much he threw back his head and burst out laughing. He laughed until his sides cramped. A hollowness sat in his chest like a weight when he finally stopped. He stared at the crystal, hating how, for a brief moment in time, he wondered if this was how the Man in the Moon felt.

He pressed a paw to the crystal and made his wish.

.

.s.

.

It was only after reuniting with the other Guardians and gathering at North's Globe Room did Jack learn Tooth had gotten her paw stuck in a hunter's trap and had been near death. It was almost hard to hear with everyone speaking over each other. Jack let them talk, content to listen. _Maybe I get why Sandy doesn't speak,_ he thought. It felt weird using spoken language again. He half expected to meow when he opened his mouth.

North clapped Jack's shoulder and nearly sent him careening to the floor.

"I told them you would find crystal! Didn't I say it?" North said, his laughter booming across the Pole. Sandy made a show of covering his ears. "Ahaha, my belly was right!"

After the ringing in everyone's ears stopped, Bunnymund turned to Jack and said, "So, how _did_ you make it? All four of us were having a tough time as it was. If it weren't for Sandy here, we all would've starved."

"I—well . . ." Jack rubbed the back of his head. "After I split up with you guys, I kinda met up with Pitch and we, uh, kinda traveled together—"

"Pitch Black?"

"What? That mangey dingo!"

"Pitch? You were you with him? He lured that coyote on you!"

Jack lifted both hands up and waited until the turbulence simmered down so he could say, "I mean, I didn't have much choice." _I didn't have you guys,_ but thought better than saying it. He didn't like how tense his shoulders were. He forced himself to lounge across a chair, staff balanced across his knees.

"Ugh. I'm sorry, mate. That must've been rough," Bunnymund said.

"You've no idea," Jack muttered, and though the big rabbit's ears twitched, Jack was glad the Guardian of Hope didn't ask for followup details.

"I'm glad you're okay," Tooth said, fluttering close. Despite her right arm being healed she still cradled it to her chest. He glanced down at his arms where his own cuts were no longer there.

"Same to you," he said. His eyes lifted to hers. "I'm sorry I wasn't there, Tooth. It sounded like you went through hell."

Tooth waved and shook her head. A frown fell across her face as her voice grew quiet. "It was so weird. I mean, when I stepped in the trap—which was horrible—but then after, when the pain got really bad, I don't think I ever remember feeling that, that . . ."

"Mortal?" Jack said.

Tooth blinked, her wings stalling.

Jack subconsciously rubbed his throat and looked away. "You weren't the only one. "

"I guess we all went through our version of mortality," Tooth said quietly, laying a hand on his shoulder. Dimly Jack realized he didn't crave her warmth, not how he did in the cave the first night they were all cats.

"Now we are Big Five again," North said, stepping next to Tooth. Bunnymund and Sandy stood next to him and completed the circle. A bolt of inexplicable sadness shot through Jack. How long, he wondered, before each forgot the feeling of mortality? He looked over his shoulder at the massive Globe forever turning, its surface dotted with firefly lights.

"Hey, whatever happened to Pitch?" Bunnymund asked. The other Guardians perked.

"I dunno. I left him up a tree with a bear," Jack said lightly.

"Baha! Oh, crikey, I would've given my left foot to see that!" Bunnymund hooted. Jack smiled but didn't join the laughter.

When all the stories were swapped and night was beginning to darken against the windows, Sandy motioned he was leaving. The spell was broken and goodbyes were passed around. After one final farewell Tooth used North's portal to return to the Tooth Palace. Bunnymund offered Jack a tunnel back to Burgess. Jack declined, saying he could use a nice long flight to clear his head. As he was turning to fly out the main window a furry paw caught his elbow.

"Hey, Jack. If you ever want to talk about, uh, traveling with Pitch, y'know I'm here for you, right?" Bunnymund said, coughing into a fist.

"Awww, thanks Cottentail."

Bunnymund huffed, whiskers bristling. "I mean it. I know you didn't talk much tonight, and—and if you have stuff on your chest—"

"Thanks, Bunny," Jack said, smiling. "Really. I appreciate it."

This time when Jack went to leave, Bunnymund let him go. The skies were empty as he zoomed through the air, the moon not even a crescent in the sky. Stars glittered all around him as he hurtled towards Burgess. No matter how long he traveled the image of Tooth cradling her arm stayed him.

When Jack reached the outskirts of the town he didn't head towards Jamie's house but swerved and touched down in the nearby forest. Without the moonlight it was difficult to see the blasted old bed, but Jack knew it was there. It would always be there. He reached out to touch one of the bedposts. The wood was dry and brittle beneath his fingertips, and when he pulled them back, several stung from splinters.

Darkness greeted him as he dropped into Pitch's lair. The odor of a musty basement hit his nose. When his feet touched the dusty stones he picked a random direction and began to walk, not that directions seemed to matter in a place like this. Eerie gray light filtered through the Escher-esque rows of staircases that led to nowhere, motes of dust glinting in the nothingness. Jack paused in Pitch's Globe Room, both hands on his staff. Iron cages creaked above him. _Where is he?_ Jack thought. He straightened. It felt like nothing had breathed in here for a long time.

He jumped when a dead fish slapped the stones at his feet.

"What, not hungry?" Pitch said as he melted from the shadows.

Jack pushed down the miasma of embarrassment and anger the Boogeyman always seemed to stir up. For some reason Pitch seemed taller than usual, more menacing. It was easy to remember Pitch only being a foot tall. Jack angled his body sideways for a speedy escape, his grip on his staff tight.

"Well, well, well, Jack Frost," Pitch said with a sneer. He stood in a patch of colourless light, sleek and sharp. "An unusual surprise. And alone, too—I thought you'd want to end me with your friends." His long hands furled into fists. "C'mon, then."

"That's not why I'm here."

"Then why are you?" Pitch growled, taking a heavy step closer. "It's done. You've won. Come to press my face in it?"

Jack retreated a step. "No, that's—"

"Then _why_." Pitch towered, teeth bared in an animal's snarl. "I thought you wanted to be left alone."

Jack hid a wince, took a breath, and said, "To say sorry."

Pitch went still. "What?"

"I'm sorry I can't give you want you want," Jack said. He lowered the staff. "I'm sorry I will never been the coldness to your darkness."

Pitch Black's upper lip curled as he straightened. His eyes narrowed. " _Tch_. Do you think any of the others could've done the things you had? You have the capacity for so more, if only you would just accept it. Such wasted potential."

"I will never be like you," Jack said quietly. "I don't want darkness, I don't want to scare kids. I hated the fear I felt when I was a cat. But . . . I can't deny what I did. Maybe you're right. Maybe you're wrong. It doesn't matter. I know who I am."

"Then you're useless to me," Pitch said, cutting a hand in the air and turning away. "If that's all, you should run back to your friends. I don't want your thanks."

"You could've let me die back there," Jack called after him.

"Believe me, I was tempted."

"But you didn't."

Pitch stopped just at the threshold, half in shadow.

"But I didn't." It was hard to read Pitch's tone. His back was turned. "And neither did you." Then he was gone, re-entering the darkness just as silently as he had appeared. As hard as Jack strained his eyes and ears, he couldn't hear a sound or sense a presence.

"You know the Man in the Moon stopped you, not us," Jack said to the wall of black. He stopped short of entering it. "If it weren't for him you would've won. And one day I think you will. When I was a cat everything became unclear, or clear. I'm, I'm not sure. Leaves die on trees but come back," he said. _But only if the tree isn't dead already,_ a dark little voice whispered.

There was no response, not even a breath of air. For all Jack knew, Pitch was long gone and he was just talking to nothing. He looked down at the dead fish on the stones, its dull eye peering sightlessly upward. Jack was relieved to find he had no desire to eat it.

Jack left Pitch's lair and paused on the dirt mound. As he stood over the dark entrance a cold wind penetrated his hoodie. He didn't shiver. He huffed out a breath. No steam rose.

 _Jack Frost, Guardian of Fun,_ he thought. The sun was beginning to rise in the east. If he hurried it'd be breakfast time at the Bennett's household. With one last look at the broken bed frame, Jack kicked into the air and headed to Jamie.

.

.

.

 _-fin-_


End file.
